The Spirit Heir (Book 2)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  "I was talking with Cal," he began, letting the words fall out, telling his story. The gray mist. The journey underneath the castle. The drawings on the wall. The way his body froze at its touch.

  Jinji absorbed everything, passing no judgment, letting him finish. When his shoulders fell and a long breath escaped his lips, she nudged his arm, eliciting a barely there lopsided smile.

  "I believe you," she said, "and I agree, it's not the shadow, it can't be. The shadow tried to kill you, the last thing it would do is expend energy trying to send you a message."

  "That's what I thought too." Subconsciously, Rhen's hand fell to his stomach. Jinji's gaze followed, imagining the scar that cut through his muscles, wondering what memory now raced through his thoughts. "But then, what is it?"

  She shrugged. "Another mystery we must solve together."

  "I'm growing tired of those," Rhen added, eyes dancing as a grin broke out on Jinji's lips.

  "Me too."

  Words passed unspoken between them, memories of their shared adventure and of the long journey ahead. The near-death experience had changed Rhen—Jinji could tell that where he doubted her before, he now believed her fully and understood the threat the shadow posed. Though his people were at war with human forces, he knew something more sinister waited to attack. Something neither of them knew how to fight.

  Rhen broke contact first, dropping his head into waiting hands, running his fingers through unruly locks growing curly in the breeze.

  Jinji waited for him to speak, sensing the questions burning his tongue. Ticking her thumbs, she counted the moving bodies below. Guards marched across the wall and servants scuttled across the yard. The lords and ladies were still cooped up inside, eating the dinner she was so glad to flee.

  "Jin, can I ask…"

  She pulled her eyes from grounds far below, back to the private space around them. The sky behind Rhen was growing darker, making Jinji all too aware that their time was almost up. When night fully descended, pushing the last vestiges of the sun out of sight, this moment of sanctuary would be over.

  "Why'd you lie?" Rhen muttered, unable to look at her, speaking more to the ground.

  Jinji swallowed the lump in her throat back down. She had known the question would come. It had only been a matter of when.

  "I never meant to," she confessed, voice as soft as the fading light around them. Her fingers shook with the memory of how they met, the day her entire tribe was killed, the distinct awareness that she had been, and in many ways still was, completely alone. "When you first found me in what was left of my village, I had woven the illusion of my brother's face without realizing—the spirits were listening to a prayer I never even spoke aloud. When I woke beside the stream, I was shocked to see his face and not mine reflecting back at me. And at the time, I didn't know you—didn’t know if I could trust you. Being a boy just seemed easier, safer."

  "And later, after we became friends?" A twinge of sadness laced his tone, something Jinji was sure he tried to hide but couldn’t quite erase completely.

  She turned away, unable to bear the look on his face, the haunting dark green his irises had become. "I didn’t know how. I didn’t want anything to change. My destiny was the shadow and yours was the war, and I thought we would one day part ways so there was no reason to admit the truth. But then—" Jinji paused, biting her lip. Was she ready for her true confession?

  "Then what?"

  Breathing deeply, she pressed forward. "Then I ran away. On the morning of the ceremony, I was trying to leave—"

  "Without so much as a goodbye?" Rhen interrupted.

  "But as I was leaving," Jinji continued, ignoring the waves of anger being sent in her direction, "I came across a little boy who was almost killed by his father, a man possessed by the shadow. And the little boy was a fire spirit, just like you, and I knew in that moment that I couldn't abandon you—that you were in danger. So I ran back as fast as I could, and I tried to save you, but…but, I was too late."

  Jinji’s voice cracked as the memory exploded full force in her mind—all of the desperation returned to her veins, making her heart pump with exertion.

  Rhen pulled her into his arms, burying her against his chest as her body shook. With soothing murmurs, he ran a hand up and down her back. His other rose to cradle Jinji's head, fingers fiddling with the short hairs at the base of her neck.

  Jinji breathed in his smell, fresh leather mixed with salty air, and let the feel of his tight muscles ease her fear.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  Rhen’s only response was to squeeze his arms tighter, pressing her body fully against his, but she prayed that it meant he forgave her.

  Resting in his arms, Jinji realized a little bit of the lie still remained, sealed behind lips that would never open in confession. Because she couldn’t help but feel as though their bodies molded perfectly together. He was a little too tall, a little too wide, and she was a little too small. Yet, their frames felt made for each other, as though his arms were meant to be around her and her head was meant to fit perfectly into the nook below his neck. They were two halves of one entity, not whole without the other.

  That was the real reason why she had never told him the truth.

  Warmth awakened in her chest—a fire that was so much easier to ignore when he thought her a boy. Life was easier that way. Because now, there was no denying how her heart burst every time he looked at her. And after their conversation from before, there was no denying that the wish, growing grander with each passing moment, would never, ever come true.

  Jinji pulled back, blinking away the water in her eyes, looking out at the horizon, which had almost disappeared. Stars decorated the sky, growing brighter as the last ray of sunlight melted away.

  "We should go back inside," she said softly, unable to look at him.

  But Rhen leaned against the stone, utterly distracted, eyes peering forcefully out into the distance. Jinji followed his line of sight, noticing for the first time a small line of lights too close to the ground to be stars.

  "What is that?" she asked. Fire? The dots were flickering orange and yellow, hard to miss now that night had fully come.

  Fury flashed across Rhen's face, followed by determination as he locked his jaw, narrowing his lips into a very thin line. He spoke only three words, but they sent a sense of dread into the pit of her stomach.

  "King Razzaq's army."

  6

  RHEN

  ~ RAYFORT ~

  When her voice cracked, Rhen was done for.

  He had been determined not to forgive Jinji so quickly, to test out their new friendship, to see if he could ever understand why she had lied. So many grand ideas completely destroyed by the slight quiver of her lip.

  "I was too late," she whispered, voice so full of self-loathing that Rhen reached out instinctually to comfort her, pulling her fragile body into his arms, hugging her as close to his chest as she could possibly go. Before his mind fully processed his actions, Jinji's head was buried against his neck, and Rhen found he quite liked the feel of holding her so tightly.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, so delicate, so feminine. Rhen bit his lip to keep his thoughts from escaping, tugging her closer instead.

  I'm done for.

  Rhen sighed, closing his eyes as though to hide from the truth. Days ago, seeing Jinji for the first time, Rhen sensed that everything was different. He wasn't sure if he could trust her, if he would be able to talk to her the same way he talked to Jin—so openly and honestly. Rhen didn’t think he could say goodbye to the boy who had become so much like a brother to him.

  How wrong he'd been.

  Oh, everything had changed, that was undeniable. But in this moment, with his fingers exploring the curve of her back, that change seemed so much for the better—dangerously so. Tonight proved to Rhen that Jinji the woman was the same friend as Jin the boy—caring, loyal—someone he could tell anything to. But now she had a whole new side to her—a side that pinch
ed his heart and stole his breath with her beauty. A side that had made him want to punch every nobleman in the dining hall that evening.

  Sitting at the front of the room, meeting the glares pointed in their direction, Rhen understood the thoughts being directed at her—even if she didn't. He saw how the men eyed her brown skin with distaste. How the women grimaced at her short hair. A thousand eyes watched her, disapproving, making Rhen's skin crawl with fury. How dare they. It took all of his effort to keep his balled fists under the table—to keep a terse smile on his lips. Rhen had been all too eager to run away when Jinji offered. He had none of her confident grace, none of her willpower, and he had been half a second from drawing his sword. Even thinking about it now made his veins ignite with anger.

  As though Jinji sensed his changing mood, she pulled away, jumping out of his arms and turning toward the view.

  Blood pumping, Rhen leaned forward, focusing his rage on the distant horizon, doing his best to hide the sudden change in attitude. He was about to speak, about to apologize, when a line of flickering lights caught his attention.

  His eyes narrowed.

  Rhen knew exactly what those fires meant.

  "We should go back inside," Jinji whispered beside him.

  But Rhen's outrage had finally found an appropriate target, a place he could funnel his fury. Vision turning red, he could not look away.

  "What is that?" Jinji asked.

  Rhen gritted his teeth, feeling his nostrils flare, and muttered, "King Razzaq's army."

  "So soon?" She gasped.

  A similar thought was running through Rhen's mind. He and Whyllem had thought they would have weeks to prepare—there were not enough arrows, enough oil. The townspeople had barely been trained for an attack. And the food stores—Rhen had been hoping spring would pass before a siege might begin, enough time to refill stock depleted by the cool winter.

  How were we so blind?

  Rhen shook his head, desperation seeping into his lungs, sucking the breath from his chest. If the army already marched on Rayfort, then the Ourthuri and the traitors had been planning this for years. King Razzaq could not amass such a force in so little time, not on foreign soil. His soldiers had to have been hiding in Lothlian for weeks, months even.

  Counting the lights on the horizon, Rhen's stomach began to fall. So many. The line of flames continued across the whole expanse of the peninsula and back, almost as far as the eye could see. Still half a day's march away, but even so, attack would be coming sooner than Rhen ever expected.

  "I must find Whyllem." Rhen cursed, grabbing Jinji's hand to lead her back downstairs. The dull warmth transferring into his skin was soothing, comforting in a way he so needed in that moment.

  Just as the two of them entered the stairs, a horn blasted through the sky—a deep bellow that rattled through buildings, filling the whole city with a scream. It could only mean one thing—the guards on the wall had seen the fires. Horns flared to life from every side, spreading from tower to tower, blaring across the city. Each tone made Rhen's heart constrict in anticipation. Chaos would soon overrun the streets. Fear made people crazy. And that was the last thing they needed right now.

  When he and Jinji reached the bottom of the stairs, Rhen paused—utterly torn. Why did it always seem like helping his people meant abandoning this person who meant so much to him? Why did it always feel as though he were leaving her behind when, in truth, he wanted her by his side?

  "Go," Jinji said, releasing his hand. Without her touch, his fingers felt cool, frozen as though his life force had been sucked away. "I'm all right."

  But was he?

  Rhen forced his hand to remain still by his side, fighting the urge to clasp her fingers once more. But as always, she understood what he needed more than he did. And right now, he needed to keep his city from destroying itself.

  "Guard," he called, turning, hoping one was around. Behind him, a royal soldier dressed in a red leather overcoat nodded and stepped closer. No fear reflected in his eyes, filling Rhen with a sense of pride—perhaps they would be all right after all.

  "Please bring Lady Jinji back to her rooms."

  "Of course, my Lord." The guard nodded, offering his arm.

  Jinji took it, turning to leave, but Rhen could not resist one more goodbye. Reaching out, he placed his palm on her shoulder. She turned, curiosity pinching her brows.

  "I…" Rhen started, but he had no words prepared. Part of him just wanted to touch her one more time. A small smile danced across her lips, as though she could read his perplexed mind. Rhen sighed, settling on, "I'll come find you later."

  Jinji covered his fingers with her own, squeezing once. "I'll be waiting."

  And then she turned around, releasing him—silently telling him it was okay. Rhen listened, quickly flipping in the opposite direction, and ran down the halls toward Whyllem's room. White stone passed by in a flurry, tunneling his vision on his destination—his brother.

  As he slammed open a heavy wooden door, Rhen realized his mistake. Pain squeezed his chest tight, a vise, making him grunt as he leaned against the wall for support.

  This was Whyllem's old room.

  The room of a prince.

  Not the king regent's room.

  In his haste, Rhen had forgotten for a split second that his father and eldest brother were gone. But now the reality rushed back, deaths striking his heart all over again, more excruciating than the wound in his stomach.

  A hand gripped his bicep fiercely.

  "It's okay, brother," Whyllem's voice broke through Rhen's hurt, "I came here too. I forgot too."

  They looked at each other, complete understanding in their downcast eyes. In his brother's face, Rhen read the doubts filling his own mind. Could they do it without their father, without Tarin? Were the two of them enough to save their kingdom? Or were they each the screw-ups everyone believed them to be?

  Pupils burning, Rhen blinked and straightened his stance, determined. "Did you hear the horns?"

  Whyllem nodded, lips drawing tight. "Is it the enemy?"

  "I believe so." Rhen sighed and walked to the window, taking a seat. They were too low in this room to see the fires ignited along the horizon. "I was on the tower when the horn blasted, I saw the lights in the dark. An army waits outside our city."

  Under his breath, Whyllem cursed, pacing the room. "I thought we would have another month at least. The last we heard, the armies were still building, nowhere near prepared to march. And now they are at our walls? How did this happen so quickly?"

  There was no need to respond. They both knew the truth—they had been blind and learned to see far too late.

  "Where do our supplies stand? Our plans?"

  "Little has changed since we last spoke," Whyllem grunted. The last time they spoke about the war had been right after Rhen awoke—a day that now seemed so long ago. "Arrow production began with renewed vigor this morning, as did oil production. But still, not at the level we might hope for. Ships are supposed to leave our harbor at daybreak to make for the Straits, but we only have a dozen or so available. Most are stationed at outlying ports, or serving as merchant vessels since we’ve been in peace for so long."

  Rhen shook his head. Must everything always go wrong?

  He looked up, watching his brother's frantic movements. If the king regent was so anxious, he could only imagine what the streets resembled. Were the taverns full of sloppy men growling in frustration? Were the alleys being flooded with screaming children? Would fights break out over food? Would they rebel against their king just out of fear?

  "Whyllem," he said forcefully, stilling his sibling. "The most important thing we can do right now is maintain control. Everyone is afraid, but we must keep them calm. We'll never survive unless the city stands united as one front."

  "How? What should we do?" Whyllem shook his head. The pressure was too much. Rhen's brother had never been the one to make decisions—no, that was Tarin's job. Whyllem just offered council and advice—b
ut with the mantle of leadership across his back, his wits had failed him.

  Rhen stood, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. "Put soldiers in the streets, make sure no riots break out overnight. Ride out and assure the public that their king has everything under control. Throw coins onto the cobblestones. Fill their bellies with warm bread and wine. The gods, Whyllem, do whatever it takes."

  Taking a deep breath, Whyllem nodded—attempting to embrace his new role as king regent with strength. Eyes no longer blank but filled with determination, he spoke with a voice far calmer than before, "I will, I swear it."

  Rhen held his brother's gaze until he believed the conviction in his words. Now it was his turn to contribute. And there was one thing Rhen could do better than anyone else. Excitement mounting, he turned to leave, muscles itching to act. But Whyllem stopped him. "Where are you going?"

  Rhen glanced over his shoulder, grinning widely. "I'm going to instill some fear in the hearts of our enemies."

  Whyllem squinted, intrigued, but did not ask questions before releasing Rhen. Good, he thought as he raced from the room. Rhen didn’t have an answer—not yet. But he would because he was going to ride out beyond the wall and take a closer look at what was waiting for them.

  Nothing too dangerous, Rhen promised himself, remembering his conversation with Cal. There was too much at stake to put his life at risk, especially when his brother so clearly needed his support. But he was sure some mischief could be managed in a relatively harmless manner.

  "Ember," he called out as he reached the stables. A reassuring screech filled his ears. Rhen raced down the stalls, laughing as his beautiful auburn horse poked her head out with complete impatience.

  "I know, girl," he cooed, scratching the diamond patch of white hairs resting between her eyes. A sigh rumbled down her neck. Rhen leaned against her coat, content for a moment of peace.